The fire

I was taking an easy walk down the streets of Thessaloniki. It was my turn today to do the shopping, as my sister, Katerina, had done it last time. I had managed to avoid the building's caretaker asking me to pay my share of the expenses for power, petrol etc. Passing the building's foyer I didn't find any new bills in my mailbox, so life was good.

Good my arse! My bank account balance was going lower and lower and if I had the courage to sum all my debts I would see that the money I owed were way more than the money I had. So I couldn't pay all my bills and if I paid some of them, I wouldn't have anything. So I didn't do anything, waiting for the upcoming disaster to take place. Then I would, I hoped, find the courage to terminate this stupid life once and for all.
I had a faint hope, though. Magic. I know, I know, it sounds extremely stupid to expect for the supernatural to help me, for the whole universal energy to look down and solve my problems. Stupid or naive, pick your favourite word. But I had long ago decided there were no other options available to me. This was something I could still do, small rituals. So I would continue to do them, as best as I could, and hope for the best.
The best for me would be to fall asleep and wake up finding out this was a bad dream. This depressing life with no opportunities, no family to help me (except for my sister who was as fucked up as I was), nothing I can believe in. But still, solutions smaller than the best would still be fairly enough, like winning the lottery for instance. Over and over again, week after week I bought lottery tickets and beg the Goddess to make them win but nothing would happen. The song "Personal Jesus" echoed through my head (although I was an atheist): Someone to hear your prayers, someone to care. Oh well.

Hermione Granger was walking the streets of Thessaloniki, Greece, following Alex Costopoulos. She had lived too much in the Burrow to remember how many people filled a city. And how none of them used magic. Shops were all around her selling all kind of things, the streets were full of cars in a terrible traffic, people waiting in the bus stops, music coming from the street cafés (it seemed that Greeks had a great love for street cafés, because there were too many and all full.

Hermione had concluded her research in London and had come to Thessaloniki a few days ago on a portkey that would take her home to England when she finished her mission. But of course, for that to happen she had to actually /finish it/. She had to talk to Alex. Maybe take him to one of those nice cafés, tell him who she was, what she was doing here, help him out. But she couldn't. It was embarrassing, actually. The woman who had confronted Sirius Black when she thought of him as a cruel serial killer and Dolores Umbridge when she thought of her as... well, as she was in reality (a cruel bitch) was having problem talking to a simple man and telling him what she needed. So she kept watching and following him. When she saw him leaving his flat tonight she thought it would be the right time to take him to a bloody café and tell him everything. But something was holding her.

Alex had just stopped to an ATM and withdrawn a fifty euro bill. She waited for a few seconds and approached the machine. Careful not to be noticed, she took her wand out of her purse and tapped the machine with it. The machine printed a receipt of its latest transaction. Hermione read it. Withdrawal of 50€ and less than 1000€ left.

Entering the super market, I almost bumped into a brown-hair woman around my age. Fighting my urge to call her a nasty name, I got in and started shopping. Bread, cheese, milk, meat and other groceries. Always the cheapest brand, of course. I saw her again a few corridors away. I let her go first, politely, and then followed to grab some spagetti and went to the cashiers.

Twice she stopped to talk to him and twice she failed to do it. What was the problem with her? If Ron was there he would make fun of her. Maybe it was his look that backed her off. Longish black hair and beard and an abstract, pained expression in his brown eyes. He resembled Sirius the first few months after his escape from Azkaban or Remus before he reconciled with his old friend. Only Alex was fatter, way fatter. But this too could be a sign of depression. Other people ate more, others less; other people slept more, others less. But none of them was content, that was the common point in all depressed people. But she was there to help him, so why wasn't she doing it? Dammit!
Alex was now returning home. Bollocks, she thought, she would loose him again and would have to wait for days for him to get out of the house again.

But fate was one step ahead of her.

I turned to the street where my flat was when I heard the sirens. Two fire brigade vehicles were parked in the two-lane road and three ambulances were behind them. I got worried. I looked up and my worries became horribly real. My building and the one next to it were on fire. I panicked. I dropped the groceries on the pavement and ran towards the door. Two officers stopped me.

"Please, I need to get it, I live here. My sister is inside!"

"You can't enter, sir. The fire brigade team will get everyone out. Please relax, everything is under control."

Under control my arse, I thought. Katerina was in and I needed to get her out. I was faintly hearing the officer explaining to some people that there had been a gas leak causing the fire, when my mind overtook and found a way into the building without the officers noticing me.
The flat was on fire. There was thick smoke everywhere. I opened my mouth to shout for her, but smoke filled my lungs. I coughed fiercely and walked the corridor to her room. Chances were she would be in her bedroom. Luckily, I was right. She was there and her clothes were on fire. I used her blanket to put it out. She was unconscious, so I took her in my arms. We were downstairs in a second. I walked her over to an ambulance. The paramedics took her in and saw me coughing. They tried to put me in another ambulance but I protested. "She's my sister, I'm going with her." They let me ride the same ambulance and off we went. Then everything blackened.

Merlin mother's panties!! That was not good. That was not good at all! She was on the street watching Alex watching the fire, when he vanished with a loud `pop'. Merely minutes later, he reappeared next to an ambulance with another `pop'. Everyone was looking at the flaming building so, hopefully, nobody had noticed Alex apparating and disapparating in a street full of muggles, probably without even realising, but still. It meant Hermione had lost control of the situation, as she feared she would.

But now she had to act, and quickly. Muttering an incantation ("Translatio!") she approached the driver of the next ambulance. "Excuse me, sir, was the young lady alright?"

"She was breathing when they took her, ma'am, that's important for the time being. Is she a friend of yours?" he replied.

"Er, yes, a close one."

"The ambulance went to Papageorgiou Hospital, at the Emergencies."

She thanked him and ran. The street was closed by the police (obviously) so she had to walk a whole block before finding a taxi. "Quickly, Papageorgiou Hospital" she told the driver as she sat in the back. Half-taking her wand of her purse she muttered "Silencio" so the driver wouldn't hear her talking on the phone, and dialled a familiar number. "Yes, Kingsley? Things went bad, very bad!"

Author's note: OK, so this is the first chapter of my first story ever! Yes, Hermione is ambitious, but we knew that, didn't we? More HP characters will come soon. So far I have written until chapter 8, and I have two or three more in my head.